


Puppy Love

by astrogirl91



Category: Chris Evans (actor) - Fandom
Genre: Actor Chris Evans, Anxious Chris Evans, Awkwardness, Bearded Chris Evans, Explicit Language, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Petting, Mild Sexual Content, Nervousness, POV First Person, POV Original Female Character, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25557022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrogirl91/pseuds/astrogirl91
Summary: Part one of an ongoing romance series about Chris Evans and Dodger's groomer, Brianna Walsh (OFC). Slightly AU as the timeline of Chris' current career is different. Contains some sexual content and language.
Relationships: Chris Evans (Actor)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	Puppy Love

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this series in early 2019. I'm new to the world of fanfic and it's taken me a while to work up the courage to post anything publicly. There are several other parts in this series that I've finished as well; they're all connected, but I like giving every part its own different title and cover, and I write each one as plot bunnies come to me, so I don't have a complete story arc mapped out or a set in stone ending for the series yet. I'm just testing the water right now, but if this one gets positive feedback and anyone wants to read more of this pairing, then I'll start posting the other parts I've finished. Any feedback is appreciated. :)

Another day, another dog to clean up.

I parked my hefty grooming truck at the top of the driveway of a farmhouse-turned-mansion hidden away in a quiet Concord neighborhood, and shut off the ignition. Fortunately for me, it was my final client for the day. Being a mobile dog groomer in the greater Boston area had started as an exciting business venture, but eventually turned into an exhausting nightmare. I was so busy almost every day, I didn't even have the time or energy to own a dog for myself.

I never planned on living in Massachusetts, but when my ailing grandmother needed a caretaker, I volunteered and moved east from my native California. Several years later she finally passed away and willed out her house in Salem to me – a petty move to spite our other relatives who didn't bother stepping up to the plate of caring for a ninety year old woman, which I couldn't blame them for, considering she was a horrible person.

Still, I felt a biological obligation to be responsible for my only grandmother's care. So I, Brianna Walsh – ever torn between thinking I'm either admirably loyal or just a fucking doormat – toughed it out. At least the surprise of inheriting her home turned out to be a good reward for putting up with years of verbal abuse and elderly bullshit. The place was a hundred years old and haunted, but hey – free house, paid off and with mostly working utilities.

So I decided to stick around Massachusetts even after granny's departure to the hereafter, and since I no longer had a doddering angry relative to mooch off of in exchange for doing her bidding every minute of the day, I saddled myself with the stress of becoming a small business owner. I worked as a dog groomer when I was in my early twenties and I missed it. Taking care of other living beings was all I had ever been good at; it seemed only natural for me to turn that into my career.

Luckily for me and my exhaustion level, the particular client I just arrived for was one I actually felt excited to see again, which put some wind in my sails. He owned a wonderful dog who I adored, and the man himself was always sweet and easygoing.

If every person in the world didn't know him as a Frisbee-chucking superhero, you'd never even guess he was an actor. Maybe it had something to do with the fact he lived in Massachusetts instead of Hollywood. You really wouldn't know he was a celebrity if it hadn't been for that silly star-embossed shield; I never even saw or heard from a personal assistant. Every month he called me himself to book an appointment for his beloved mutt to get a bath or haircut, and every time I arrived, he greeted me himself too.

I hopped out into the muggy early June air and walked to the rear bumper to start up the generator, where I noticed a long stream of water leaking from underneath my truck. “ _Shit,_ ” I groaned as I opened the door to the tank that supplied my tub’s bath water. It had cracked at some point during the drive and more than half of the water was gone, leaving nowhere near enough to bathe a large dog. I sighed and grabbed my hefty bag of tools to take inside. I was pretty sure he wouldn't mind me needing to use one of the bathrooms to wash his dog, but I was still mortified at the thought of looking unprofessional to him. I walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

Dodger instantly started barking, followed by the sound of nails and paw pads skittering as he clumsily ran across the wood floor, then a loud thump as he slipped and finally crashed into the door. He always pulled that maneuver whenever I arrived.

 _Such a goof. He is definitely his dad’s dog…_ I thought with a giggle.

“Take it easy, pal!” I heard Chris say moments before he opened the door. “Hey there, Bree!” He said to me with a bright smile.

“Hey!” I smiled back. My stomach did a small excited flip at being called that nickname I never heard from anyone but him, and the way he was beaming at me too. He was always friendly and in a good mood, but this time he looked like he was seeing an old friend again after years apart – instead of his dog's groomer who had just been there a month ago. My heart couldn't help but flutter, and I nearly lost my train of thought as my mind tripped over the way his blue-green eyes were gazing at me so ecstatically.

“So, uh…this is embarrassing, but my truck's tank busted open and I'm out of water. Is it alright if I borrow one of your bathrooms to wash him? I'll clean up the mess, and give you a discount for the inconvenience.”

“Of course! And don't even think about giving me a discount, you deserve full payment for dealing with this knucklehead. Come on in.” He opened the door wide and gestured for me to enter. It was the first time I had ever actually been inside of his house – something that was more exciting for me than it probably should have been.

Dodger was wagging his tail and panting happily at me, then suddenly jumped up, planted his paws on my chest, and licked my face.

“No Dodger, off!” Chris scolded him and pulled him back down.

“It's alright,” I said as I scratched Dodger behind the ears. “He's my favorite of all my clients, so he can get away with it. You're the goodest boy!” I cooed at him.

Chris laughed. “Oh, I see how it is. _He's_ the favorite client. I'm just chopped liver.”

I blushed slightly. “Stop! You know what I mean.” Over the course of the year since I had first received a call from him asking if I'd groom his mutt, we had developed a good rapport with one another, and Chris loved to tease, but sometimes I still felt hesitant to give him shit back.

Mostly because I had, entirely against my will, gradually developed feelings for him – feelings that I wavered back and forth about acting on. Every time I thought I'd found the gumption to say something about it to him, and every time I started to wonder if maybe he felt the same way, a nagging voice in the back of my mind beat me down. I always ended up convincing myself I'd never have the courage to pursue him, and he was way out of my league anyway. I was just a dog groomer, after all.

But my dumb crush still remained. At first Chris was just another client to me; I had never been particularly interested in any celebrities and never felt that starstruck by him. To be honest, I had never even seen any of his movies – except for one that my younger cousins forced me to watch, something about Captain America and Iron Man fighting an evil Norse god trying to take over the world with a blue orb thing. I dozed off during most of the parts where Chris wasn't on screen. Cute guy running around in spandex, so why not pay attention? But I never bothered to follow up on any of his other work; it just never occurred to me.

So it wasn't his stardom or money or power that was attractive to me. It was the fact that – aside from hitting the genetic jackpot and being so handsome everyone with functioning eyes would agree – he left me the fuck alone to do my work. He didn't hover behind my shoulders making sure every hair was exactly the same length, demanding I cater to all of his whims like many high maintenance clients I had.

He always tipped me well – _really_ well – and thanked me like I was doing him a huge favor, as if he forgot it was just my job.

He offered me a soda or snack for the road whenever I was finished, always making sure I had enough energy to drive safely.

He hung around my truck before and after Dodger's groom session, chatting with me about various subjects: our mutual love for Disney animation and shared taste in classic rock, bitching about the latest absurdity in politics, even having a heated debate about Starbucks being better than Dunkin' Donuts – I refused to concede, my native west coast would always reign supreme for coffee!

Our conversations initially lasted for only a few minutes, but gradually grew long enough that I started scheduling Chris as my last client of the day so I wouldn't risk being late for my next appointment – which happened a few times, especially if the Patriots had just played. I let slip my family was full of Pats fans, and Chris assumed that meant I was too. I never bothered to correct him even though I knew jackshit about football. Instead I started following the team on Twitter, tried to figure out what exactly the appeal of the sport was, and pretended to know way more about the game than I actually did.

But my favorite thing of all that threw lighter fluid on the bonfire of my feelings for him: he always gave me a long, tight bear hug in greeting or departing, sometimes both – though today he seemed to have the opportunity bogarted away from him by Dodger's overly excited jumping.

In short: he was a normal dude who was really, _really_ nice to me. None of my other clients were like that. Neither were the majority of people I had encountered in New England – the term Masshole wasn't just a joke in my experience. It had taken me a little while to feel the butterflies around him, but when it happened, all of those small things building up over time made them hit hard.

I could still keep my cool around him – at least I thought I did – but every time I had seen him over the past several months I grew more nervous, like a dumb teenager fumbling around her first crush. I just wanted him to think I was cool. Fucking stupid butterflies.

As if he could read my mind – or maybe my body language was more awkward than I assumed and he just finally noticed – Chris asked as I followed him through the house: “So how have you been? Everything alright? I don't mean to pry, you just seem kinda different lately and I've been meaning to ask.”

“Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine.” I nervously pushed my dark brown hair back and discreetly fluffed it a bit, suddenly self-conscious that it looked like shit after eight hours of sweating and wrangling dogs. I fidgeted with my baggy gray tee, attempting to make it look more form-fitting. I looked down at my athletic leggings and panicked – could he see through the mesh cutouts on them that I hadn't shaved my legs for a week? Were my old running shoes disgustingly filthy and unworthy of stepping on his shiny wooden floors?

 _Oh God, I’m sure I smell like wet dog and anal glands too…fantastic. I shouldn’t dress for comfort like I always do on Dodger’s grooming days anymore. Next time I need to look hot as fuck...and make sure I shave my damn legs..._ I thought.

“You just seem a little tense. I got that feeling last time you were here too. Everything alright with your family?” Chris stopped and gave me a small smile. “Sorry, I'm not trying to be nosy. I just want to make sure everything's okay with you. I mean, I've known you for a while now and, well…” He paused and gazed at me with something in his bright blue-green eyes that I thought I was just imagining. “I care about…how you're doing, you know?”

My heart skipped a beat and a nervous giggle escaped my mouth. _Jesus, hold it together you idiot._ I cleared my throat. “I appreciate that. I'm fine, though. I've just been…sorta stressed out from work.” It wasn't entirely a lie, considering working for him _did_ stress me out lately. “Family is all good. I still don't see much of them, but they've driven up from Worcester and visited a little bit more in the past couple years, ever since someone finally dropped a house on the old bitch and saved me.”

Chris laughed loudly, placing his hand in the center of his chest – not quite his signature left pec grab, which he had done numerous times before when I made a remark that I hadn't intended to be funny. The fact he found me so hilarious when I didn't even try only threw more fuel on the flames of my crush. More stupid butterflies appeared.

“I'm sorry! I shouldn't find that so funny, but I know your grandmother was extremely nasty to you. It's terrible you had to put up with that abuse.”

“It's okay, laugh as much as you want! She was a real piece of work and everyone hated her. May she burn in hell in peace.”

He laughed again. “You are a hoot. You know that, right?”

I blushed slightly. “I'm glad someone thinks so.”

“Is the house still holding up? You're still living out in Witch City, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, I'm still there. No plans to move back to California. I have no reason to leave.” A small smile crossed his face that I could have sworn was a look of satisfaction and relief. I tried to ignore it. “And the house is mostly holding up. The heat comes and goes, some of the flooring downstairs is warped, and I should probably get around to having someone update the outlets to ones that weren't installed when Eisenhower was president. Otherwise it's still a decent place to live. It has good bones, and some charm.” I grinned at him. “Think of it as being like the Haunted Mansion, but just a _little bit_ shittier.”

Chris chuckled. “When you put it that way, it sounds like a fuckin' awesome house. Damn, why didn't I have the idea to buy my own Haunted Mansion instead of this?” He gestured to the wide open space of his living room: tall windows, white walls, bright natural lighting, immaculate contemporary furniture, a huge widescreen TV.

Something made me suspect he'd get a kick out of how vastly different the decor in my own home was: damask wallpaper, antique velvet couches, Victorian lamps, oil paintings, mahogany wood furniture. I never redecorated because I enjoyed the old creepy New England aesthetic too much. I had a daydream or two about inviting Chris over to check out the minuscule piece of Salem history that was my home, but the nagging voice in my mind always forbid it.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked almost sheepish for a moment. “Well, I'm not much of a handyman myself, but if you ever need anyone to help out when things go awry, I could try to be useful.”

I swooned internally at the idea of him walking around my creaky old home wearing a tool belt and one of his lumberjack plaid shirts, looking every inch a man with his full beard and sweaty face and dirty hands. I knew he was a theater kid at heart, so he probably wasn't lying about not being handy and would just fuck up my house, but the mental image was lovely.

I smiled. “Thank you, I appreciate that. But really, I'm doing alright. It's not a bad place at all to live.” I paused for a second, then suddenly blurted out: “It does get lonely, though. I mean, I guess a five bedroom house with only one person living in it is bound to feel kinda empty sometimes, and I don't have company very often. My family isn't exactly a living Hallmark card like you've told me yours is. My dad died when I was little, I'm estranged from my mom, no siblings – and I don't really care for my other relatives even when they do come around. I've just never been that close to anyone in my family. I guess I'm sorta the black sheep.”

I wasn't sure why I suddenly felt compelled to share so much information with him. I laughed nervously and attempted to bring some levity back to the conversation. “It's probably because they all think I'm a witch. They've banished me to live alone in the woods for the rest of my life.”

Chris laughed quietly, but a hint of sadness crossed his expression. “I figured you've had a rough time with your family from what you've told me about them, but I didn't know you were on your own so much. I'm really sorry – especially about your parents. That's heartbreaking.”

I smiled sadly and shrugged. “It is what it is.”

He paused for a moment. “I know you work a lot and don't have much of a social life…”

“Thanks for the reminder!” I said sarcastically, grinning at him.

He laughed. “I'm not trying to be a dick, I promise. I just want you to know that you've got a friend in me any time.”

My heart skipped a beat. _Wait…what?_

“And if you don't have any plans for the Fourth next month, you're more than welcome to join me and my family. We're gonna fire up the barbecue, set off some illegal fireworks, the usual. Hell, you can actually stop by my mom's place any time you need company. Her door is always open to my pals. She's the official adoptive mother for anybody who needs one.” Chris smiled sincerely at me.

 _Pals? Open invite to his mom’s? What the fuck? Since when did he become more than just a client?_ I was momentarily dumbfounded. “That's…that's really sweet of you. Thanks,” was all I could say.

“Like I said, I care about…you.” He seemed to hesitate on his words. “And this guy cares too!” Chris said as he scratched Dodger behind the ears, seemingly trying to change the subject. Dodger leaned into his leg and looked up at him adoringly. I couldn't help but smile at the love his furry son held for him. “You're the first groomer he's ever actually been happy to see, you know. I went through a few before I found you. They all kicked him out and told me never again because he was such a pain in the ass.”

“Really?” I was genuinely surprised to hear that. “He's always been a peach for me, he's so well-behaved. I've never had a problem with him at all.”

Chris smiled at me again with that look in his eyes I couldn't quite decipher – something I thought I was just imagining, but hoped to hell I wasn't. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

I looked down before he could see my cheeks turn red; my skin was so pale that even the tiniest amount of blushing was obvious, and I couldn't risk letting him know how his comment made me truly feel. “Well, let me get started on my gentleman caller here. Just the usual today? Shave everything but his head and tail?” Dodger's coat was fairly grown out since his last haircut in spring, when I buzzed off the shag Chris had let him keep all winter.

“Sure! Whatever magic you always use to make him look so good. The guest bathroom is down the hall. If you need anything, just yell. I'll be out here in the living room.”

I grasped Dodger's collar and started to lead him away. “I've got my orders. Sure thing, Cap,” I said, then immediately cringed. _That was the stupidest thing to say…don’t you think he’s sick of being called that by now, you moron?!_ I felt some relief hearing Chris laugh softly as I walked away.

Dodger listened to me quietly mutter complaints as I soaped him up in the bathtub, trimmed his nails, and cleaned his ears. “ _I_ seem different lately? What the hell is going on with _him_ today? I don't know if I'm just seeing shit that isn't actually there, or if your dad suddenly has a crush on me. What do you think? You're around him more than anyone, and I bet I'm not the only one who uses you as a therapist. What secrets has he spilled to you?”

He looked at me and whined, then licked my face before promptly shaking himself off and spraying me with water droplets.

“Thanks. Some help you are.” I laughed and kissed his snout.

After drying him with a hair dryer I found under the sink, I opened the bathroom door and Dodger bolted out. Moments later I heard Chris laughing. I walked out to the living room and started laughing too. It appeared Chris had been doing push-ups before Dodger knocked him down and pinned him to the ground, ravishing him with spitty kisses.

“Okay, okay, enough! I love you too, Bubba.” He pushed him away and stood up. At some point during Dodger's bath, Chris had changed from his jeans and Patriots tee into gym shorts and a white tank top that looked about two sizes too small. I always struggled to not ogle him, and the task was even more difficult that day, since it was the tightest shirt he had worn in front of me thus far. I tried my best to not stare at how it clung to his defined bulging muscles, or the fact it was just transparent enough that I could see his nipples and all of his tattoos.

His pale skin was flushed slightly red everywhere except what his beard concealed. He wiped beads of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, then ran his hands through his long hair. I was surprised he still had his own winter shag, considering when I first started grooming Dodger in spring of last year, Chris had already buzzed his hair down to almost nothing in anticipation of the summer heat.

_Maybe when I told him a few months ago I thought it looked good long, he decided to keep it? No, that can’t be. Why should he care what I think?_

“Done already?” He asked.

“Not quite. I'll take him back out to the truck now for his shave down, unless you want hair splinters covering every inch of your bathroom. Come on, Lovebug.” I grasped Dodger's collar and pulled him away from his dad again.

After walking a few steps, I stopped and turned around. “I've been meaning to ask you…”

“Yeah?” Chris looked up at me, and for a moment his bright blue eyes caught me off guard. I almost forgot what I was about to say.

“Um…I have to admit, I've wondered ever since I started grooming Dodger: why do you always want me to shave him?”

He looked at me perplexed. “Isn't that what you're supposed to do with long-haired dogs?”

“Yes, but only if they aren't double-coated like Dodger. Shaving him actually just takes away the insulation his coat is supposed to provide him against both the heat and cold.”

Chris raised his eyebrows in interest. “Really? Huh, I had no idea!”

“I mean, I probably should have told you sooner, but...I don't know, I just...uh...” My mind completely blanked, and I suddenly found myself unable to form a sentence as I got lost in his eyes again. I shook myself out of it.

He didn't seem to notice my awkwardness – or at least pretended not to – and smiled at me. “That's really interesting. Goes to show how much I actually know about dogs, huh? But he also sheds so much when it's long, I go through lint rollers like crazy. I thought shaving him would make that stop. It seems to be working, right?”

“Not exactly,” I said with a small smile. “The constant hair cuts really aren't great for his type of coat. Eventually they'll ruin it. If you want, what I can do instead from now on is give him a heavy duty deshed bath every month. It won't stop the shedding entirely, but does cut it down quite a bit. And I can show you how to brush him in between appointments, to keep getting all of that loose hair out from his undercoat.” In all honesty, I didn't care that much what Chris wanted done with his dog's grooming – I just wanted an excuse to stay inside the house with him longer.

He smiled. “Yeah, of course! That would be great.”

I dug a deshedding brush out of the bottom of my tool bag and knelt down at Dodger's side. Chris joined me on the floor.

“So, step one: get one of these brushes.” I told him.

“No shit,” he said with a grin. I smiled bashfully and felt my cheeks turn pink. _Duh. He’s a meatball, but he’s not a complete dumbass…_

“Uh…anyway, start up at his neck, and brush back towards his tail in small sections.” I began to demonstrate brushing his long red and white coat. Dodger stood there wagging his tail, happily compliant.

“Okay, got it.”

I suddenly became very aware that Chris wasn't watching the motion of my hand anymore, and was gazing at me instead. I looked at him and smiled, then quickly diverted my focus back to Dodger's silky coat. _Damn it, those fucking blue eyes…_

“Go over the same section multiple times to get out as much loose hair as possible.” I felt a sweat break out on my palms, and my hands shook slightly. _You’re being fucking ridiculous. Get a hold of yourself. This is nothing special. He’s just a client, and you’re just a dog groomer to him…_

“And always watch out for any bony parts, like over his spine. Don't put too much pressure on those areas. These brushes can be kinda prickly, so always brush in really long, slow, gentle strokes…” My breath caught in my throat as Chris suddenly placed his hand over mine and followed along with my motion.

I looked over at him, grinning boyishly at me. “Just trying to get a feel for how you do it.”

I pulled my hand away, terrified that he would feel it sweaty and quivering, then cleared my throat. “So…yeah, that's how you do it. I can finish from here. I mean, what are you paying me for, right?”

Chris gave me a small smile. “If you let me borrow that brush I'll do it myself later, now that I know how to.”

“Alright, but you better not steal it!” I smiled coyly, attempting to be flirty.

He looked at me with another one of his charming boyish grins. “Of course I won't steal it. I mean…I gotta give you a reason to come back, don't I?” He gently squeezed my elbow, and let his hand linger there holding it for several seconds, slowly stroking my skin with his thumb.

I couldn't help but grin back at him. _Alright then, I guess I’m not just imagining things. He’s being pretty fucking blatant about this right now…_

“Bree, there's something I want to ask you,” Chris said quietly.

“Yeah?” My voice cracked. _Oh God, he’s going to ask me out right now isn’t he? Declare his undying love for me? Ask me to run away with him and we live happily ever after with all of our dogs and babies?_

For the first time since I had met him, he looked anxious; I could see in his eyes that his mind and heart were both racing. We sat there staring at each other for what felt like hours.

“Never mind,” Chris said with a nervous laugh as he looked down.

My heart sank. How stupid could I be for even thinking my wild fantasy would come true? Obviously I had misinterpreted everything. He was just a flirt, a hot celebrity who reveled in the attention from women who wet themselves over him, and I was – reminding myself again for the millionth time – just a dog groomer.

I felt my face flush red, and I suddenly wanted to get the hell out of there. “Okay.” I smiled tightly, then quickly stood up.

“I'll walk you out,” he said as he picked up my bag. “I got this for ya.”

“Thank you for that,” I said, then rubbed Dodger behind his ears and gave him a kiss on the snout as a quick farewell. “See you next time, Lovebug.” He licked my face in response, and looked up at me with sadness in his big almond brown eyes. The expression on his face made me swear I could hear him say: “But I want you to always stay here with me and Dad.”

_Okay, now you’re being totally fucking crazy and just projecting your bullshit onto a dog. That is not what Dodger is thinking…or is it?_

Chris and I walked outside to my truck and – apparently in an effort to ruin my life even more by fueling my crush with such gentlemanly behavior – he loaded up my heavy tool bag as well as opened the driver's door for me.

“Do you want a soda or energy drink? Or some jelly beans?” He asked. “I can run back in and get something for you, I've got plenty of goods in the kitchen. I always keep them in stock for you.” Chris blushed slightly. “Well, I mean...just in case you or, uh...anyone else wants something.”

I smiled shyly, hopeful but hesitant to believe he was lying that the supply of snacks and drinks he had kept on hand from the day we met were for anyone else _but_ me. “No thank you, I'm alright. Traffic hasn't been bad today, so I should be back home in forty minutes or so.”

“Alright, as long as you can drive safely.” He dug into the pocket of his shorts, pulled out a wad of twenties, and held it out to me. “Here, I figured I should finally start tipping you in bills that are easier to break.”

“Oh, thank you,” I said as I took the money from him. He usually gave me a hundred dollar bill for my tip, but I noticed as I quickly thumbed through the twenties that it was at least two hundred. “Chris, this is too much. I can't take all this money from you.”

“No, it's not, and yes, you will. You deserve it! I love spending money on you.” He smiled.

I tucked the cash into the pocket of my leggings, then suddenly felt bold for a moment and smirked at him. “Are you trying to buy me or something? What kind of woman do you take me for?”

Chris blushed bright red, and I couldn't help but feel proud that I had gotten one over on him. “No, no, it's not like that at all. I'm just, you know...I, uh...” He sighed, shook his head, and laughed. “Anyway, thank you so much for coming all the way out here again. Dodger and I really appreciate it.”

I smiled at him. “No problem. It's my job, you know. I'll just email you the bill like last time.”

“Full price, remember? Don't you dare give me that discount.” Chris grinned.

“If you insist! So, uh…I'll see you next month?”

“Don't you need your brush back before then?” That look in his eyes suddenly returned.

My mind blanked and I stared at him like a deer in headlights. _Okay, what the_ _fuck is going on here? Is he expecting me to make the first move? I do have his phone number, I could always text him later if I get drunk enough to ruin my career…or should I say something now? This is the perfect opportunity, just go for it you dumbass…_

“I…um. No. I'll see you later.” I quickly turned to hop into the driver's seat and speed away from my feelings yet again.

“Bree, wait.” Chris gently grasped my arm.

“Yeah?” I turned around to look at him, and he suddenly grabbed my face and kissed me hard on the mouth.

For a moment I was paralyzed, not sure if it was actually happening – or if it _should_ be happening.

 _Oh, fuck it…_ I thought, then wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned into his kiss. Chris moved his hands down to my back; the hard muscles of his arms encircled my petite body and locked me against him. He was nearly a full foot taller than me, and I felt him lift me up slightly so I didn't have to put all of my weight on my tiptoes. His coarse beard tickled my face as my lips moved against his, but I didn't mind – it was exactly the sensation I hoped for.

I felt his lips part, so I parted mine in return and his tongue slid into my mouth. He tasted like mint and Chapstick; his conveniently fresh breath and moistened soft lips made it apparent to me that he had at least partially anticipated doing this before I left.

He stroked his tongue against mine, gently at first, then faster and rougher as his kiss grew more hungry and urgent. One of his hands moved up to the back of my head and grabbed a chunk of my hair, balling it up tightly in his fist. It was such a dominating gesture and I loved it; between that and being wrapped up in his enormous arms, I felt as if he was claiming me as _his_. I was completely lost in the moment, not a care in the world about anything except the feeling of his hands and mouth finally on me – and the fact my panties became significantly moist within seconds.

Suddenly he broke our kiss, let go of me, and stepped back. “Fuck, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I did that. I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry, Bree,” he said with a pained expression on his face.

I stared at him in awe for several seconds, still reeling from what had just occurred. “Huh? What? There's nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I just grabbed you and kissed you without even asking. God, I am such an asshole.”

“I don't think you are.”

“I'm sorry. It's just…I really like you,” Chris said quietly.

I looked at him dumbfounded. “Like…as a friend? A potential fuck buddy?”

He laughed quietly. “No, I like you as in…I _like you_ like you.” His face flushed red, and he smiled nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Jesus, I feel like I'm in high school again.”

I was in complete shock and could only stare at him blankly.

“Say something? Please?” Chris asked, his voice laced with anxiety.

“Uh…I just don't even know what to say. I mean, I'd love to…” I trailed off as my mind struggled to form a coherent thought.

“Shit, you have a boyfriend now, don't you? I've been so far up my own ass for months with how I feel about you, I've never even bothered to ask if you're still single.” He sighed and muttered to himself: “Damn it, Chris, you fuckin' meatball.”

“I am!” I blurted out. “I'm single. Very single.” I took in a deep breath, then paused for a moment to gather my thoughts and summon the courage to finally say what was on my mind. “Look, I've been acting kinda weird around you lately because I like you too – in the same way – but I had no idea you felt like that.”

Chris chuckled. “I guess I'm a decent actor after all.”

I laughed. “Apparently, but I wouldn't know either way. I've only seen about thirty minutes of your work.”

He grinned. “I know, and I hope it stays that way.”

I laughed again, then sighed. “I thought if you did ever find me attractive, you would just want to fuck me and only call again whenever you needed me to wash your dog. I mean, I didn't think I was your type. There's nothing special about me.”

“Don't cut yourself down like that, Bree. You're _incredibly_ special, whether you believe it or not. And as for you being my type…” Chris smirked as he looked me up and down, then gazed into my eyes. “You definitely are. You're gorgeous – inside _and_ out.”

I smiled as my heart fluttered out of control.

“Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” He asked. “Or grab a drink, catch a movie, whatever – you pick. I don't care what it is, I just want to spend time with you, without having to ramble about some bullshit out here on my driveway just to make you stay longer.”

My heart skipped a beat for the hundredth time that day. _Holy shit, is this actually happening right now? He’s really liked me all this time? I can't believe he thinks he sucks at acting...he's hidden it way better than I have…_ “I thought you were just being a really nice client whenever you stood out here chatting with me.”

Chris smiled shyly. “I wanted you to stay for as long as I could keep you. I like getting to know you, and I just…really enjoy being around you. You're smart, captivating, funny – hilarious, actually – and there's something about you that makes me feel quiet, peaceful... _happy_. That's not a good enough word, but the easiest way for me to describe it: you make me happy.”

I beamed at him, still in complete disbelief that all of this was happening. “Then why didn't you say something to me sooner about, you know…having _feelings?_ _”_

He smirked. “Why didn't _you?_ _”_

“You know why.” I playfully punched him in the chest.

“I get it, I can be a Nervous Nellie too. I guess I didn't know how to act on my feelings, and I wasn't really sure how you felt about me. I wondered sometimes if I was just imagining things with the way you started acting different around me, or I thought I was being too hopeful. Something finally clicked in my brain and I figured it out today. I thought it was now or never, and I should just go for it. Took me long enough, right?” He smiled sheepishly.

“It was worth the wait.” I grinned. “And yes, I would like to have dinner with you tomorrow. I have to ask though: why me? Honestly, I've never thought I'm anything that wonderful. I'm just a dog groomer.”

Chris looked at me with a softness in his eyes that made me swoon. “Because Dodger has loved you right from the start. I knew you were a catch the moment I met you for that exact reason. They say dogs are the best judge of character, right? If my dog is all in, then so am I.”

I smiled brightly. My heart was fluttering all over my chest and my mind was spinning; I could barely process everything that was happening. I giggled, then raised an eyebrow at him. “So this is going to be an actual date? You _really_ want to spend time with me outside of a bed?”

He smiled sincerely. “Yes. I'm not interested in just a sex thing.”

“I'll take your word for it, but if this all turns out to be an elaborate ruse to get in my pants, just remember I know where you live.” I winked at him, and he grinned.

“For the record…” Chris grabbed my hips and pulled me against him – holding me tightly as if I'd slip away – then looked down at me with those bright blue-green eyes and smirked devilishly. “If I just wanted to fuck you and nothing more, I would have done it already. I would have had you on your back screaming my name _months ago._ ” He practically growled.

I quivered and felt myself grow even wetter. _Aaaaand now I definitely need to change my panties…_

I grabbed his face and kissed him hard, then impulsively grasped his hand, hopped up into my truck, and pulled him in with me. We clambered into the passenger seat, shutting ourselves into the most readily available private place for me to straddle his lap as we groped each other like horny teenagers. I couldn't have given less of a shit about how I looked or smelled anymore, because being on top of him making out in a steamy cramped truck – his hard cock pressed right up against my crotch, both of us dripping in sweat – was such an unreal situation that nothing else mattered.

When we finally pulled our tongues out of each other's mouths long enough to put some oxygen back into our lungs, I finally fessed up and blurted out: “I don't know shit about football. I don't even like it. I just wanted you to think I'm cool.”

Chris was preoccupied grazing my neck with his teeth. “I know,” he said, his voice muffled. He pulled away from kissing my throat and looked at me with a smirk. “It was pretty obvious you were just repeating whatever you read other people tweet about the Pats. I can always tell if someone is actually a fan.”

“You knew and never said anything? Why?”

Chris grinned. “I thought it was adorable watching you try. You don't need to worry about me not thinking you're cool – trust me, you definitely are. I want you to just always be yourself. Don't ever be anxious or think you need to impress me. You already have.”

He gently grasped my tits from the outside of my sweat-soaked tee shirt, then moved his hands down to my ass for the hundredth time since our steamy makeout had begun, grabbed it hard, and spanked me. I jumped and yelped slightly, giggling like a dumb schoolgirl. “Besides, I like you so much I can overlook you not giving a shit about my team – as long as you don't mind me being completely consumed by it on game nights.”

“I don't mind at all.”

“Good,” he said quietly, then held the sides of my face as he kissed me tenderly. I nibbled on his lower lip and he moaned softly.

With a sigh, Chris reluctantly pulled away. “As much as I hate to say it because I'm dying to fuck the living daylights out of you right now, we should probably stop.”

My inner horny teenager whined _“But whyyyyy?!”_ My pussy had been so wet the entire time, it was practically dripping down my thighs. I was raring to go, desperate to finally break the almost unbearable sexual tension.

“I told you I don't want this to be just a sex thing, and I mean it,” he continued. “Let's not rush. I'd rather wait a little bit longer.”

As disappointed as I was about not being able to fuck him within the next minute, I couldn't help but melt a little inside at his statement. I grinned. “Wow. That's…ridiculously cheesy, but incredibly sweet of you.”

Chris smiled sheepishly. “Well, I'm not in my twenties anymore. It's a little easier to think with my big head now, rather than my little one.”

I laughed. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm dying to ride your dick until I'm raw...but if we're really going to do this, I think I'd also rather wait. Not to mention it would be way more romantic if the first time we have sex is somewhere that isn't a suffocating sauna inside my truck, and when we don't smell like wet dog and ass.”

He laughed heartily, that time going for the full left pec grab, and I felt a swell of pride about making him laugh so hard. “I have to agree with that sentiment. I don't want the first time you blow me to be ruined by the wonderful scent of ball sweat.” We both doubled over in laughter again.

“You're awfully confident, aren't you? Why are you assuming I'd even want to suck your cock right away?” I bit my lower lip and twirled around a lock of my wavy hair, which had turned into a frizzy tangled mess.

“Because you strike me as the type of girl who is just the right amount of naughty and _loves_ to suck cock. Yes? No?” He grinned.

“Well…yes, I am.” I smiled coyly. “And you strike me as the type of guy who would let me ride his face all night. Correct?”

“You're damn right I am. I'm not gonna be able to get enough of eating your pussy.”

“Good! Otherwise I'd be sorely disappointed in you.” I smirked and slowly grinded my crotch against his.

Chris moaned softly, ran his hands over my ass, and squeezed it one more time. “Fuck, this is gonna be tough to wait out, but I _really_ don't want to rush. I'm doing this right. No way am I gonna risk messing up anything with you.”

“It'll be tough for me to hold myself back from jumping your bones too, but I don't want to rush anything either. Besides…” I kissed him, then nipped his lower lip. “I'll manage by getting off thinking about you every night until then. I can imagine what you feel like inside of me. I've already been doing it for months.” I moved my hand down to the hard bulge in his shorts and grasped him firmly. His cock twitched and he moaned low in his throat.

He clenched his jaw, then exhaled sharply. “Okay, that does it. Get off me, or I'm gonna lose my mind. Be gone with you, witch!” We both laughed, and he kissed me deeply before I eased myself off his lap and he opened the door. The blast of fresh air felt amazing, despite being only slightly less muggy outside than it was inside my truck.

Chris hopped out first, then held up his hand to assist me. I grasped his hand and balanced on him as I stepped down, wincing. Although I was only thirty, my knees were screaming at me from being stuck in that erotic position for so long. _Note to self: change positions frequently...mmm, I'm sure he'll love that..._ I thought.

“Ow! Damn it,” I hissed.

“Are you okay?” Chris asked with concern in his voice as he held my waist, supporting me while I leaned forward with my hands on my knees.

“Yeah, just getting old.” I laughed.

“Don't even start. You're not the one who's pushing forty!”

I stood upright and smiled. “Well shit, you're practically one foot in the grave. Since your time is running out so fast, maybe we should plan that date you asked me for.”

He grinned and wrapped me in his arms. “What do you want to do? I'm up for anything.”

I thought for a moment about what would be a good first date, something that would be extra cool, but none of the ideas that ran through my head were truly my style. _Well, he wants me to just always be myself, so that’s exactly what I’m gonna do…_

“How about you and Dodger drive out to my neck of the woods, and we take him to Salem Common for a while? The squirrel chasing there is great. Then let's grab some pizza and beer, go back to the Haunted Mansion, and watch old Disney movies all night.”

Chris smiled brightly at me and his eyes lit up. “God damn, Dodger was right about you. You _are_ the perfect catch. It's a date, sweetheart.”

I grinned at him. “Sure thing, Cap.”


End file.
